


Bear Witness to Suffering, Leads Only to Sorrow

by TeamImprov



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Hurt/Comfort, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Torture, Worried Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamImprov/pseuds/TeamImprov
Summary: A man from the past with a grudge against Jack goes after the one person he knows will break Jack the quickest – Mac.





	Bear Witness to Suffering, Leads Only to Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This scene wouldn’t leave my head so I had to write it. You know how it is…

Mac found himself tied to a chair, limp as a ragdoll, when his eyes fluttered open. 

His vision wavered, blurry and disorienting, rolling his stomach into knots. It felt like he was on a boat, the ground undulating from rocky, storm-brewed waves. But as he rolled his too-heavy head to the side and blinked everything back into focus, he saw that he was actually in an abandoned warehouse that had definitely seen better days. The walls were scrapped of paint and molding in the corners, the exits draped in plastic sheets. They swayed gently back and forth. The unfinished floor littered with chunks of cement, leaves and dirt, and discarded rebar. In the left hand corner there were tarps laid out and buckets of paint, graffiti tags decorated the bland, grey walls. 

He groaned slightly when his head spiked in pain. He could feel drying blood coating the side of his face, starting at his hairline. 

The first question that sparked in his molasses mind was what happened? He remembered being at home, sitting and talking with Jack at the fire pit, drinking beers to unwind from a rough case. 

What happened after that? 

Jack was telling him a story about the time he won a bull riding contest when he was Mac’s age and then there was the faintest impression of a footstep behind them and a scuffle. It didn’t last long because neither of them had seen the intruder coming before something heavy and metal connected with the side of Mac’s head. He remembered landing in a heap on the wooden deck, his head about to burst from the pain of the hit, and seeing Jack get his lights punched out before his vision faded into nothingness. 

Jack? 

Mac’s head bolted upright and he winced sharply, biting off a groan as the sledgehammer took another swing at his temple. He wanted to reach up and feel the damage but a quick tug told him he was bound tight. Apparently they saw him as a flight risk because he was tied down with multiple kinds of restraints: zip ties, duct tape, and then rope for good measure. His ankles, at least, were tied with only duct tape but they were secured firmly to the legs of the rusty metal chair. 

“Hey, Mac?” Jack’s voice came from behind him. “You awake, buddy?” 

“Jack?” Mac asked, craning his neck as far as he could to find Jack in a similar situation as him about ten feet behind him. 

“I’m right here, bud.” Jack said in relief. “Are you okay? You wouldn’t wake up. I was afraid they scrambled that genius brain of yours.”

“I’m good,” Mac said around another deep wince as a sharp stab of pain exploded from his ribs. Apparently they got a few good kicks in when he was down. None of his ribs felt broken but they were definitely bruised. It was sad that he could so instantly recognize the difference but experience is the best teacher. 

“If you say so, hoss.” Jack said. “Think you could whip up something to get us out of this one?” 

“Don’t know yet.” Mac admitted, his eyes automatically searching for something useful, his breath caught when he twisted too much and a pained hiss escaped. “You’ll be the first to know.” 

“Cool,” Jack said, feigning boredom. “You know, why don’t you tell Uncle Jack what injuries you’re hiding, huh, just real quick since there’s nothin’ else to do.” 

“I’m fine, Jack, really.” Mac insisted distractedly. He sighed with a defeated frown when there was nothing on his person or in his reachable surroundings that could help him escape. 

“I can tell when you’re lying, man.” Jack said, nervously. “You’re hurting and I don’t think it’s just the head wound.” 

“My ribs might be bruised but they’re definitely not broken so stop worrying.” Mac said. He appreciated Jack’s concern, he really did, but it was not the time for that right now. “What about you, what are you hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding anything, dude.” Jack said. “They broke my damn nose but the good news is I think they straightened out a kink from the last time. Remind me to send them a thank you card when we escape.” 

“Right,” Mac said, tuning out Jack’s rambling. They both dealt with capture very differently. Mac went silent while Jack’s mouth shifted into overdrive. Mac sometimes wondered if he did that on purpose to annoy his captors into letting him go. To be honest, it was probably just as effective as Mac’s improvising could be. 

“You do have a way out, right hoss?” Jack asked again, his light tone taking on an edge. Mac understood perfectly how he was feeling. Neither of them still wanted to be there when their captors decided to show up. Who knew how long they had before that happened. 

Apparently not long at all. 

Almost as if summoned by the thought, two incredibly large men with ridiculously huge muscles and all manner of socially unacceptable tattoos walked in, pushing aside the plastic in the doorway. One made their way to Jack’s side and the other took his position next to Mac. The man’s beefy hand gripped the back of Mac’s neck hard and pulled his head back and Mac had to bite his lip not to scream at the increased throbbing playing a bass drum in his skull. 

“Careful with the kid, there Burly,” Jack hissed as Mac blinked rapidly to get rid of the descending black spots swimming in front of his vision. He swallowed convulsively so he wouldn’t ruin anyone’s day by throwing up on their shoes, not that he cared about ruined this man’s shoes but still. Mac heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh and Jack grunted. “Ow, careful with me too there, huh?” 

“What do you want?” Mac asked weakly. The man said nothing, just kept his tight grip on the back of Mac’s neck and stared unblinkingly at the doorway. Mac glanced downward toward the entrance when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps and squeaky rolling wheels. 

A tall man in a perfectly tailored suit walked in, pushing a cart. He had greying short hair and a pale sagging face, devoid of any and all recognizable human expressions. Even Sparky seemed more human than this man. He heard Jack’s quiet gasp behind him and assumed it was because of startled recognition. Since Mac didn’t recognize him, it made since that Jack would. 

Mac watched cautiously as the man rolled the cart until he reached Mac’s side. He stopped and pulled on a pair of gloves, which was never a good sign, and grabbed Mac roughly by the chin. He shifted Mac’s face so he was forced to stare at the man as he used his other gloved hand to pry one of Mac’s eyes open. Mac held his breath in absolute terror but the man merely let him go with a few brisk ‘tisks’. 

“I told you not to be so rough with them.” The man said in a thick Eastern European accent. “But I guess this will have to do.” 

“Sorry, boss.” The man holding Mac’s neck said through clenched teeth, gripping Mac’s neck even harder as if punishing Mac for the reprimand. 

The man in charge ignored the apology, instead turning his attention toward Jack. 

“Jack Dalton, you probably don’t remember me. It’s been quite a few years since we last met.” His voice was creepy calm and yet tense, like a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike at any second. 

“Hey Vladimir, I remember you. Didn’t I put a bullet in you and your brother in the ground in Sierra Leone?” Jack said casually, a hint of amusement in his voice. Mac could tell what he was doing. He was trying to get the man angry so his attention would be diverted away from Mac and onto himself. The self-sacrificing jerk was always doing stuff like that, as if he thought Mac couldn’t take a punch, but Mac still loved him for it, even if he was slightly offended by it. 

“You did, effectively shutting down my entire organization, my life’s work and the work of my father and his father before him, as well as killing my brother in cold blood.” Mac could feel the rage radiating off the man in waves and winced as a gloved hand struck out and squeezed his throat enough to make it hard to breath. He felt claustrophobic with hands around both sides of his neck. He gasped as the man’s fingers squeezed even tighter, his body jerking in reaction to the sudden pain and lack of oxygen. Mac could hear Jack shifting restlessly in his chair and Vladimir loosened his hold on Mac’s neck. 

“No hard feelings, there, right big guy? I was just doing a job; you can understand that, right?” Mac could hear the tension thinly veiled behind the forced casual tone Jack was trying hard to stick with. Mac knew that was another tactic. Jack would pretend as long as possible that it didn’t bother him if someone was hurting Mac. If he showed his hand too quickly by reacting strongly to his partner’s pain, then it usually only confirmed that hurting Mac was the course of action that would yield the strongest results. 

Mac could always tell when Jack was nearing his breaking point from being able to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, and it was already getting close to that point. Whoever this guy was, Jack was scared of him, of what he might do to Mac. 

“I do not think you understand what is happening here, Jack Dalton.” Vladimir clearly wasn’t fooled and reached his free hand up and grasped the back of Mac’s hair and pulled back hard. Mac couldn’t stop the startled yelp that escaped at the rough treatment. His head was being bent at a painful angle, now, and he felt too exposed like that. He held the man’s dark gaze as he leaned close and stared intently into Mac’s eyes. “I hold all the power now, and the proper leverage, and I plan on paying you the same curtesy you did for me, with no hard feelings, of course.” 

“Come on, man, why don’t we settle this like men – just you and me. Let the kid go, huh, and you can do what you want to me.” Jack’s voice was taking on a sharper hint of desperation. Mac hadn’t dared blink so he saw the shift in Vladimir’s expression, the tiny micro expression of thrill, at Jack’s tone, and felt his heart rate skyrocket in response. He would gladly take any amount of torture to save Jack from it, but he could tell it was going to be bad this time. 

“Tempting but I think I would enjoy watching you lose your brother like you made me lose mine, but I will not be as merciful as to make it quick. You see, your bullet did not kill Dmitri right away. He suffered days of intense agony until he choked on his own blood and died in my arms, drowning on dry land. I plan on paying back that debt in full.” 

“If you touch so much as one more hair on his head I will kill you.” Jack’s voice was made of pure ice as he ditched any pretenses of being cool, calm, and collected. Mac knew that meant Jack could see it, too. Jack had lost the effort in drawing the attention away from Mac, he hadn’t convinced anyone that he didn’t care that much about the kid, and now they were both going to suffer for it. 

“Your threats mean nothing to me.” Vladimir said and pulled Mac backwards until the front two legs of the chair rose off the ground. The Muscle that had been silently holding onto Mac from behind took hold of the chair and held it so Mac was lying back, facing the ceiling. Mac’s eyes dove frantically around as he desperately tried to figure out how to escape, to do something, but he was tied down too tight. Even if there was something he wouldn’t be able to do anything with it. 

He watched as Vladimir walked over to his little cart of horrors and picked up several terrifying looking tools. He made a big show of selecting one, holding it up so Jack could see what it was, before dropping the tool back onto the tray and doing it again with the next one. 

Mac could hear Jack fighting against his own restraints but his shouts were muffled as if he had been gagged. Mac didn’t know the entire story about what had happened between Jack and this man but he knew Jack and he knew without a doubt that if Jack was tasked with killing this man and his brother they must have been really bad. His heart broke for Jack. He didn’t deserve being forced to watch this happen. However Vladimir planned to hurt Mac it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the psychological torture for Jack. 

Finally, Vladimir seemed to decide on a rusted coil of hose. He unraveled the hose and walked to one of the walls where there was a spigot. He screwed one side of it into the wall and walked back over to Mac. He picked up what looked to be the world’s dirtiest towel off the cart and smacked it onto Mac’s face. 

Mac’s panic increased when the towel was pulled tight across his face, his oxygen supply already cut off, and waited. The anticipation of not knowing when it was going to start was overwhelming and Mac’s struggles increased as he heard the squeak of a knob turning and then the splatter of water against cement, the current strong and intimidating. 

This was going to suck. 

Mac heard Jack’s muffled shout before something hit the top of the towel. Immediately, the force of the icy water soaked through the towel and he choked when it went straight down his nose, into his mouth, down his throat, choking him. He couldn’t think or do anything accept fight against the hands and ties and binds holding him down, his attempts more and more desperate as the feeling of drowning increased. 

“God, stop, you’re killing him!” Jack’s desperate plea was unencumbered by the gag. Maybe Vladimir wanted to hear him beg? Mac didn’t want Jack to give the man an inch but he could feel sparks igniting his vision, his fight losing strength as his lungs filled. Just as his eyes were beginning to roll up into his head, the towel was removed and the water stopped assaulting him. 

The chair was knocked back onto all fours and Mac took huge, gasping lungful’s of air. He coughed and sputtered water out of his lungs and sagged against the binds, chin to chest, as he winced against the burning pain in his lungs.

“How does it feel, Jack Dalton, to see your brother suffer so?” Vladimir said before the chair was tipped back once again and the soaked towel was slapped over his face, the water following immediately. 

Mac felt like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean as the icy water struck him again. He wanted to stay strong for Jack, he wanted to be brave and stoic in the face of this madman, but his survival instinct had kicked in. His whole body strained as he fought against the drowning sensation, of the actual drowning as water filled his lungs once more. It seemed to go on forever and ever and Mac was sure the man was going to break his promise to make it slow and kill him right then and there. He couldn’t let that happen, what would happen to Jack then? If he died, they would move onto him and Mac feared they would really drag out Jack’s torture. 

His mind swirled and screamed as his body was helpless to do anything to save itself. He felt the fullness in his chest, the pain of water forced down his nose and throat, and his hearing turned to a sharp ringing and then dull static. 

His chest bucked in self-defense one more time before his consciousness was snuffed out with the same swiftness as a blown out candle. 

++

Jack’s blood boiled in agonizing rage as he watched his kid get mercilessly tortured. 

He saw Mac’s struggles weaken as the gushing water was held over his face and knew he had to do something or he was going to watch the most important person in the world to him drown. He pulled with all his might against the duct tape cuffing his wrists to the chair and felt two things give at once, the tape and the wooden arm rests. Luckily his chair wasn’t made out of metal like Mac’s was. 

Jack gripped the arm rests firmly, one in each hand, and in one swift motion launched the wood into the man’s face standing behind him. He caught the man off guard by swinging the wood directly down onto the man’s nose, shattering the cartilage. Then, in the same movement, he brought the wood back up and drove it downward at the exact, specific angle he knew would shove the broken shards of cartilage directly into the one tiny unprotected part of the skull that would allow it to pierce his brain. The man dropped and Jack knew he wouldn’t be getting up again. 

Vladimir and Mr. Muscles were distracted, Muscles holding Mac’s chair in place while Vladimir poured the water onto his kid’s face. The commotion caused by Jack killing the first goon caught their attention, though. 

Jack lashed out at Muscles and smashed the wood as hard as he could into the side of his neck, directly where he knew the carotid artery would be. He put all his strength behind it and the man stumbled, dropping Mac’s chair so Mac fell backwards, his head thunking against the concrete floor. Jack took half a second to appreciate his training on knowing exactly where to hit to cause the most damage the quickest as Muscles sagged to the ground, his carotid hemorrhaging blood into his neck - a gruesome way to go, but cleaner than severing the important artery with a puncture which would cause quite a mess. 

He charged at Vladimir next, needing to get the man away from his best friend. He lashed out with his wooden stakes, catching Vladimir against the side of the head. The man stumbled but caught himself before falling and dodged Jack’s second attack by leaning out of the way of Jack’s second strike. Vladimir kicked out, catching Jack just right in the knees to make them give out underneath him. He rolled with the fall, using the momentum to his advantage and picked up a sharp piece of rebar and jabbed the metal into the man’s unprotected abdomen on his way up, the rebar sinking easily under the man’s ribs. 

Jack pushed the man backward and turned back to his partner who was still lying on the ground, still struggling, and Jack could immediately see why. The towel was still in place but so was the hose, continuously gushing water over the poor kid’s face, the torture continuing even though all of his torturers were dead. 

“Jesus, Mac!” Jack cried out and slide across the dirty floor until he was kneeling directly beside his fallen friend. He ripped the hose away from the kid’s face and threw it behind him, the still running water spreading over the floor in random, Rorschach test patterns. Jack immediately pulled the towel away and watched helplessly as his friend gasped and choked, small amounts of water bursting from his desperately parted lips. His eyes were clenched shut against the pain. 

Jack brushed the wet hair glued to Mac’s forehead away and rested a hand on kid’s bucking stomach before placing his ear against the thin yet still surprisingly muscular chest beneath him. The rasping breaths causing the kid’s chest to heave were crackly and wet under Jack’s ear and he quickly lifted his head back up to look at Mac’s blueish grey lips. He had to do something fast or Mac wasn’t going to make it. 

He glanced down at where Mac was still attached to the chair and knew the first step had to be getting the kid free. He reached for Mac’s pocket where his little red knife lived and sighed in relief when he actually found it. Thank goodness they didn’t check him for weapons better, or maybe they just knew he wouldn’t be able to get to it. 

“Jesus, looks like your reputation precedes you, huh, bud?” Jack breathed as he cut the multiple layers of restraints around Mac’s wrists, wincing in sympathy for his friend at the raw and bloody skin underneath. Once those were out of the way, Jack cut the tape around his ankles before carefully lifting Mac away from the cold metal chair. 

Mac gasped in wet sounding breaths as his body ached for more oxygen. Even though the towel was gone and water wasn’t actively pouring into down into his lungs anymore, Mac still felt like he was drowning. 

Panic seized him all over again and he grasped at Jack’s shirt, his back arching desperately. 

“You’re okay, bud, you’re okay. It’s over.” Jack said soothingly, picking Mac’s upper body off the floor and holding him tightly against his chest. “I’ve got you, Mac. They can’t hurt you anymore.” 

“J-j” Mac’s voice shuddered out as Jack pounded a strong hand against the kid’s thin back. He knew it had to be murder on his bruised ribs, which were probably now broken. Jack himself might be the one breaking them but broken ribs were better than drowning. 

He hefted Mac up by the shoulders when the kid gagged and started coughing up more water than Jack wanted to think about. He wanted to kill the man all over again for torturing Mac like that. Waterboarding was evil, pure and simple; there was nothing more to it. Doing it to an innocent kid was worse. Jack was the one to blame for the man’s anger; it should be him coughing out half a river, not Mac. 

“You’re okay, kid, it’s over.” Jack said, heart slamming painfully against his ribs as Mac sucked in pained, wet gasps. “I’m so sorry, bud, I’m so sorry.” 

“Not…fault…” Mac forced out, his voice wrecked but Jack had never been happier to hear it. He knew watching Mac writhe on the ground with the towel and hose still over his face would haunt him for a long time to come. He knew the nightmares would be the worst, of not stopping Mac’s torture in time and having to watch him die. But none of that mattered with the kid breathing right then and there. Nothing would ever matter more than that. 

“It kind of is, bud, but we’ll deal with that later.” Jack sighed and pulled Mac closer so he was leaning more solidly against Jack’s chest. It seemed to help. 

“Thanks…stopping that…” Jack could feel the adrenaline seeping out of Mac as he leaned more and more of his weight against Jack. Jack merely wrapped his arms more protectively around his best friend, knowing Mac wasn’t completely out of the woods yet.  
“Always, man.” Jack choked out, the emotional toll of the past few moments finally crashing over him. “What do you say, hoss? You ready to go home?” 

Mac took a few seconds to simply breathe, mentally sighing in relief that he was still alive for that to be an option, and nodded against Jack’s chest. 

“Alright, then, let’s go home.” 

The End.


End file.
